


Kneeling At Your Feet   OR   The Airstrip Story

by LTRisBACK



Series: Five times Crowley tried to propose, and one time... [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Conversations with a (not?) antichrist, Crowley Has Issues (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Godparents Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Other, Sad, Visiting Tadfield, proposal fail, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:26:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26622877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LTRisBACK/pseuds/LTRisBACK
Summary: Now that St James' Park is out, Crowley has the thought to try again somewhere with more recent importance in their lives, so he takes Aziraphale to Tadfield.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Five times Crowley tried to propose, and one time... [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923421
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	Kneeling At Your Feet   OR   The Airstrip Story

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so glad people are enjoying this little series, I'm having a lot of fun writing it! Thanks to everyone who takes the time to comment or hit that little kudos button, it really does mean a lot. Without you, writing kind of feels like screaming into the void.

Crowley had thought long and hard about where to try again. Obviously St James’ Park was out, but where else could he go that had serious significance in their lives? He knelt out in the garden, pushing the fallen autumn leaves into piles under the trees to insulate the soil from the swiftly approaching frosts, and considered. He’d tried somewhere that had great significance to them during the arrangement, but how about something that had more meaning in their recent history?

He thought through the events of the days leading up to the Apocalypse. He had no desire to propose at the bandstand, or at the Ambassadorial residence. But the airfield - where they had finally admitted what they were to each other, truly decided on their own side and stood with the Antichrist to defy first the forces of heaven and hell and then the devil himself. That was the place, Crowley determined. Where they had truly begun their life together. 

Now he just had to find a way to get his angel out there, but that was easier said than done. There was just no reason to go back there, really. Eventually Crowley concocted a plan, one that involves checking on the Them (and Adam in particular) and stopping in to see what Anathema and Newt (if he was still around) were up to. 

“C’mon, angel, it’ll be a nice day out. There’s sure to be some lovely quaint little pub or other in Tadfield, what with that being the ‘type of thing a proper village has’. We’ll have a lovely lunch, see the kids, check in with the witch…” he trailed off, assessing Aziraphale’s expression. He clearly wasn’t sold, but Crowley was starting to feel rather desperate and he pushed his luck. “Bet there’s a tearoom somewhere there where you can get a good cream tea,” he coaxed, and saw Aziraphale decide. 

“Very well, my dear, if it’s that important to you we can go.” Crowley’s beaming smile caused Aziraphale’s to warm several degrees, glad that he was doing something that pleased his demon. 

It was a lovely day for a drive, and Crowley almost took his time, enjoying the trip (the two hour drive from Devil’s Dyke to Tadfield still only took about 45 minutes) and when they parked in the centre of the village and stepped out, Aziraphale lifted his face to the sun with a happy sigh. “It still feels loved,” he murmured, and Crowley smiled, even as he wondered exactly what that felt like. 

They wandered the village for a while, finding both a tea shop and a cosy country pub. Deciding to wait to eat until after they’d checked on the children, they headed for Hogback Lane, where they knew Adam’s house was. 

“How exactly are we meant to approach Mr and Mrs Young, Crowley?” Aziraphale inquired as they turned the corner. “I mean, we can’t exactly walk up to them and ask where their son is, can we? I mean, most humans frown on unrelated adults asking after their offspring, don’t they?” 

Crowley sighed and frowned in thought. Aziraphale wasn’t wrong, after all, they couldn’t just walk up to Adam’s parents and start asking questions. 

“Well, lets just walk down the street and see if we see him. If we don’t, if he doesn’t appear, we’ll come up with a reason to talk to his parents.” They wandered down Hogback lane, side by side, shoulders brushing occasionally. They peered up into the trees, looking at the birds that had nested in their branches, listening to the hungry cries of baby birds and the shrill warnings of their approach from parents. 

A sharp bark echoed down the lane, and then a former Hellhound came racing out from under a hedge and danced around Crowley’s feet, tail wagging wildly. Crowley flinched, because there might not be much of hell still sticking to the little dog but there was a little there.

“Dog! Oi, stop tha...oh. It’s you.” The terrier left Crowley and darted to sit at its master’s feet, watching the angel and demon with distrust. The boy, on the other hand, looked surprised but not displeased to see them there. “Wasn’t sure you’d come back, after…” he let the sentence trail off. After the reset. After almost everyone on earth forgot about the events of Armageddidn’t. 

“Well. We’re a bit harder to influence than most humans,” Crowley shrugged. “So, how’ve you been, kid?” 

“Yeah,” the once-antichrist shrugged, glancing around. “You know. Alright. Been nearly a year now, which seems crazy. The rest of The Them are good. We don’t talk about it a lot, but they all remember, too.”

Aziraphale nodded, thinking. “Well, they were at the epicentre, and I think, in your heart of hearts, you probably didn’t want to make your friends forget it all, did you?” 

Adam scuffed a toe on the ground. “Well, no,” he admitted. “Are you...Will you come around more? I’d like to talk to you sometimes.” 

“The problem is explaining who we are to your parents,” Aziraphale looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Any ideas on what we could do?” 

“I’ll tell them you’re my godparents,” Adam shrugged. “They’ll remember that, then. I try not to do it, honestly I do, but sometimes it slips out. Can’t help it. I do my best, really. I’m actually hoping you can help with that?” His face suddenly screwed up, eyes filling with tears, expression fearful. “I don’t mind making things, sometimes that’s nice but...I don’t want to do anything to anyone, and sometimes I can’t seem to help it. Please, can you help me?” 

Aziraphale, eyes wide, looked over to Crowley. They hadn’t expected anything in particular to come of meeting up with Adam again, other than confirmation that he didn’t have his powers anymore. The idea that he still had any of them didn’t fit Aziraphale’s understanding of what happened that day at all, and from the look on Crowley’s face it confused him almost as much. Still they couldn’t leave the poor boy to struggle on his own like this so they assured him that they would, indeed, figure out some way to help him. 

Adam brought them straight over to the cottage and brought them into the kitchen where his mother was busily chopping vegetables. She looked up and frowned in concern. “Adam? Who are they?” 

“My godfathers, mum, remember? Mr...ummmm,” he glanced between them, eyes wide, and the two suddenly realised that they had quite forgotten to introduce themselves at any point. 

“Mr Fell and Mr Crowley,” Aziraphale quickly introduced them both, and was rather horrified to see the poor woman’s eyes glaze over slightly as she nodded. Adam looked at her sadly, then turned away. “Dad’s out the back,” he told them quietly as he led them through the house and into the back garden. “Dad!” the honest love in Adam’s voice and on his face was heartwarming, and the smile on Mr Young’s face was welcoming. To watch it fall away into blank acceptance was gut wrenching in the extreme. 

Adam turned away from his father, his face grief-stricken, towards his newly appointed god-parents. “Help me? Please? I don’t want to be able to do this.” 

Crowley stepped forward and pulled Adam into a hug, and the boy sobbed and wrapped his arms around him tightly, burying his face against Crowley’s chest. Aziraphale and Crowley shared a look over the boy’s head, communicating silently in a way that only beings who have known each other for six millenia could. When Adam pulled away, wiping his hands over his face, Aziraphale spoke. “Somewhere we can sit and talk would be good,” clasping his shoulder briefly to comfort him. They ended up in the sitting room, and sat talking for a long time. 

At the end, they hadn’t reached any particular conclusions, but they had made arrangements to spend time practicing with Adam to help him get things under control. The two agreed that it really would be good for him to have it under control before his hormones really took off and he found himself frequently at loggerheads with his parents. 

Adam thanked them profusely, and Crowley ruffled his hair, leaving him ducking backwards with spluttered objections. “We’ll see you soon, kid, okay?” With that they left him, and made their way back into the village. 

When they came in sight of the Bentley once more, Crowley blinked in surprise. There was a man standing next to it, looking it over. He looked vaguely familiar, and Crowley struggled to place him. The Bentley did tend to draw attention wherever they went, but this man looked like he’d seen a ghost. 

“Can we help you?” Aziraphale asked, eyebrows raised. His proprietary feelings over his books and his demon had, at some point, spread to the Bentley for no other reason than that it was incredibly important to Crowley. 

“I’ve seen this car before,” the man said as he turned towards them, and when he saw Crowley he really did pale drastically. “You! You were driving it, and it was ON FIRE!” He stopped and shook his head violently, as though dislodging something. “No. No, that’s impossible, because it’s here and you’re here, and it’s not burnt.” Without another word, the man turned and strode determinedly away, half dragging a small sausage dog along with him. Crowley and Aziraphale watched him go, then looked at each other and shrugged. 

“Well, that happened. Now, Angel, I believe I promised you a cream tea,” Crowley extended his arm, and Aziraphale tucked his hand into the crook of the demon’s elbow. “Can I tempt you?” 

Aziraphale wiggled in a way that made Crowley beam in a manner most unbecoming to a demon, and happily replied, “Temptation accomplished.” Crowley led the way back to the tea rooms they had passed earlier, where they were served a high tea more sumptuous than the cook there had ever before prepared. 

There were tiny sandwiches and three different types of cream cake, and a dozen little treats Crowley remembered from other surreptitiously shared meals as being things that Aziraphale particularly enjoyed at the time. Some of them quite possible hadn’t been made in a century or more. They sat, sipped, and savoured for quite some time, Crowley taking small nibbles on each item and watching as Aziraphale delicately consumed the rest. 

They wandered slowly away from the (very confused) little cafe, and Crowley looked around thoughtfully. Now he just had to get Aziraphale out to the airstrip, and he hadn’t planned this part of the day too closely. In fact after the work he’d put into planning their day at the park, he’d wanted to let today flow more naturally. He was very glad he had, or else everything would have been thrown off by needing to stop and talk with Adam. The only part he’d planned was what, exactly, he was going to say once they reached the airstrip. 

Now he stopped beside the Bentley once more and opened the door for Aziraphale. “Hop in, Angel. There’s somewhere I want to take you.” 

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at him, but entered the car without comment, sitting back and allowing Crowley to drive them to the Airbase. A simple miracle got them past the gate guards (Aziraphale felt a brief stab of remorse for the young man he had banished to goodness only knows where) and Crowley stopped the Bentley mere meters from where they had been standing that day. 

Aziraphale was watching Crowley pensively, not at all sure what they were doing there, but when he exited the vehicle Aziraphale did too, circling to stand at Crowley’s side. 

Crowley looked around, taking in the space. He had thought this place was already seared in his memory, but now that he was standing here again the memories were pounding in him. This might be the place where their freedom began, but it was also where they’d almost lost everything. He suddenly remembered being forced to the ground, the absolute terror and pain of that moment. Then the sight of Aziraphale standing over him, sword raised. That split second where he thought that the angel had changed his mind, when he thought it was truly over. 

“Crowley? My dear, can you hear me?” Crowley startled violently, and realised he was kneeling on the ground, the gravel of the airstrip digging into his knees. His cheeks were wet, he realised after a long moment, and raised a shaking hand to wipe the tears away. Aziraphale caught it before he could rub the dirt and dust from the ground all over his cheeks, and gently mopped his face with a handkerchief. 

“Ahh, there you are, my dear. You know, I do believe that this was not the best place for us to revisit.” Aziraphale smiled gently at Crowley, who shuddered then darted forward to wrap himself around his angel, clinging tightly and trying to erase the image behind his eyes of Aziraphale standing there with that sword. “Shhhh, it’s alright, Crowley, I’ve got you. We’re here. We survived, we WON, Crowley. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here, by your side, on our side. Can you stand up?” He supported Crowley in getting to his feet. “I’m going to get us out of here.” Aziraphale helped Crowley into a position he’d never before taken - the passenger seat of his car. 

Aziraphale was in the driver's seat faster than Crowley thought it was possible for him to make his way around the car, but he wasn’t entirely certain he wasn’t losing time. Then Aziraphale was sitting in the driver's seat, expecting the car to drive them out of there - so it did. It drove them all the way home to their (not so) little cottage in Devil’s Dyke, with Aziraphale holding Crowley on the newly bench-shaped front seat. When they arrived at their home, Aziraphale assisted Crowley out of the car once more and all but carried him indoors, where he tucked him up on the couch and swiftly prepared some rather alcoholic hot chocolate for them both. 

They spent the evening together, not speaking much, merely basking in each other's company and the fact that they had each other to bask in. Crowley may have clung rather tightly to Aziraphale at times, but then again, Aziraphale clung back. By the time they went to bed, they were inebriated and each content that the other was truly safe. As Crowley dropped off, his head pillowed on Aziraphale’s lap while the blond started his nightly reading, he decided that, despite his failure, for tonight that was enough.


End file.
